


A Whole Lot of Swingin’

by orphan_account



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, More angst, Tj is just a lil bean inside, i don’t like andi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: T.J. is a mess. His father is seemingly constantly drunk. His mother is taking the repercussions. He’s beating kids up just for the sake of it. He has dyscalculia. He’s realizing his friends on the basketball team are a little fake. And, the kicker: he’s in love with who seems to be his only genuine friend, Cyrus.





	1. Prologue/Short First Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, the gang is about two years older than they are in the show. This just seemed like a lot going on for thirteen year olds. Also! Minor self-harm, homophobia, and abuse are mentioned. Be warned.  
> All characters belong to the writers of Andi Mack. Enjoy my loves <3

It wasn’t always this bad. 

T. J. had listened to his parents fight ever since he could talk. He had a little routine by now. He would squeeze in the laundry hamper inside of his closet. That way, if he wanted to pick out some of what they were saying, he could hear through the thin walls, and if he didn’t, he could just throw a shirt or what not over his head to block out the noise. It was childish, he knew, but it made him feel safe. If his father were to ever get too mad and come looking for him, the closet was at least a semi-decent hiding space. It had never happened, but the idea always floated in the back of his mind. It scared him. T.J.’s Father scared him silly sometimes.

Nestled in his laundry bin, he would always rate the arguments. Was it a bad one? Worse than the one before? In his mind, T.J . always concluded that the current argument was worse and more hostile than the previous ones. That couldn’t be right though. He supposed it just seemed that way.

This time, however, T. J. decides, definitely takes the cake. His father sounds drunk as a skunk, and he just heard glass break. That happened once a few years ago, but there was an apology, and things calmed down after that. This time, no apology. T. J. fears for his mother. She seems to have stopped screaming. It’s just Mr. Kippen, now, yelling at his wife. T. J. can’t even make out half of what he’s saying, his speech is so slurred. He wishes he could go check on his mother, but he’s scared.

He’s fucking scared. He puts on a brave face everywhere else, but he’s always been scared for her. He can’t bring himself to go check on her, and feels awful about it. It’s such a horrible feeling. 

He’s heard the awful things his father threatened to do to him if his mother didn’t “shut up” or “get outta my hair”. T. J. doubts they’re true. But after that one time, he can never move from his little space in the closet. He wants to, but he’s frozen. It kills him. 

A tear rolls down T.J.’s cheek, surprising him. He hates being scared like this. There’s nothing he can do about it. He has no control. He wishes he had someone hiding with him, like a sibling or something. Or he wishes Cyrus could be here, just sitting next to him quietly. That’s all he needs. Someone else next to him. Not daring to make a sound, T.J. wipes his wet, gross face on the T-shirt strewn next to him. He’s always told himself it will get better. By now he knows that’s not true. He squeezes his eyes shut and listens to the words being thrown across the kitchen. He’s crying. T. J. never cries. He can’t cry. He’s not some stupid baby. T. J. hates the fact he can’t go in there with his mother. He hates himself for it. He’s just sitting in the closet, crying, and wincing at his own behavior. T. J. really can’t take himself anymore. He slaps himself. It feels good; nice to do. Now every time a sob escapes his throat, he slaps himself, leaving a stinging feeling on his face. 

Now his father is going on about how worthless Mrs. Kippen is. T. J. buries himself in clothes. He can’t feel his face anymore, but he’s still so angry at himself he keeps going. It gives him something to do.


	2. A Whole Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A fair amount of language

T. J. awoke to the familiar screeching of a tea kettle. He blinked a few times and got out of bed. People had always said that it was tough to get out of bed in the morning, but T.J. thought that was kind of stupid, because there were much harder things. Like standing up to his father. But he could just get up when he wants to. No fuss, no muss. T.J. never stayed in bed, he guessed to prove this to himself. His mom had always told him he was as stubborn as a mule.

He didn’t remember ever going to bed in the first place. Stumbling across the small, carpeted room, he opened the closet, and the sour memories of last night came flooding back to him. His dad had gotten drunk again. T.J. prayed to whatever God was out there that his mother was okay. He ran out of his room to the kitchen. “Mom?”

“Yes, dear?” Mrs. Kippen was at the stove, standing on one leg in front of the stove. She always did that. She claimed it helped her balance. T.J. had always thought she looked like a flamingo when she cooked.

Thank God She was okay. T.J. wanted to hug her, but didn’t want to send them both flying into the stove, so he squeezed her hand. She squeezed his and swung her arm back, hitting her side and wincing. 

Anger flamed inside of T.J. “Mom?” he asked, subconsciously jamming the tips of his fingers into his palms like he did when he was mad sometimes. 

Mrs. Kippen knew what was coming. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“No! No, Mom! It’s not okay!”

“I am a grown woman. I can handle this. This is not your business.”

“It most definitely-,” T.J. started, but he was cut off.

“This is not your business!” she yelled as quietly as she could muster, but that was pretty loud, as angry as she was. 

T.J. has gotten her short temper. At least, he hoped he had gotten her temper. T.J. feared he would turn out just like his father in a few years. T.J. certainly had a short enough fuse. And alcoholism ran on both sides of his family. 

T.J. knew for a fact his father had to be passed out sleeping, so he gave in. He headed to the bathroom and washed his face. It had felt gross and crusty from crying. He was still sore from when he had slapped himself out of anger. 

Slapping people, even if it was himself, out of anger. His stomach sunk. T. J. was turning into his father.

 

T.J.. arrived early to school. In all honesty, he had just wanted to get out of his house as quick as possible. He knew his mom would leave for work at Jim’s Diner soon, so she was safe. 

He saw short dark hair out of the corner of his eye, and his heart rate sped up. It was Cyrus. Upon taking a second glance, he saw that it was just some kid he didn’t know. He should’ve figured. 

T.J. hated the fact that that had happened. To put it plainly, it just shouldn’t have. It should never have happened, all those times. He should’ve gotten that way around a girl. A nice cheerleader, maybe. With light skin and dark hair and matching eyes, and dimples.

Now he was imagining Cyrus as a girl.

T.J. was so agitated he couldn’t think of anything that would relieve his frustration. This had been going on for a little while, now.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when he first started feeling anything. T.J. didn’t recall why he was originally nice to Cyrus in the first place. Of course, Buffy had made him get a muffin for Cyrus. But it was T.J. who approached him at the park. T.J. who didn’t make fun of Cyrus’ little songs. T.J. who tried swinging. 

Cyrus had told him that he probably had more “stuff” than T.J. did. T.J. doubted that, but he didn’t say anything. And for a second, he just wanted to tell him everything. He couldn’t, though. He barely knew the kid. So he just said “I bet I can swing higher,” which was kind of stupid, when he thought about it.

T.J. had swung, and thought about his parents. He wondered why he had gotten so disappointed when Cyrus called him ‘scary basketball guy’. He guessed that that was all he really was. Sometimes he hated that he was mean to people. He didn’t intend to be; he just couldn’t help it. He was fucked up.

T.J. didn’t remember what happened next, and all of a sudden he was pushing Cyrus on the swings and running under him, and they were both laughing. T.J. couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun like this, even though it was just something small.

Buffy came up, and T.J. left immediately. Being nice like this kind of freaked him out. He was surprised at himself. He still didn’t want Buffy seeing this, though. 

Then, at the basketball game, he had to sit out because he was fucking retarded or whatever. Seriously, he couldn’t do anything right. He had told Cyrus to leave, but he just followed him out of the gym. Even when Buffy was mad that he had, but Cyrus still followed him. T.J. wondered how he knew T.J. had secretly wanted him to follow him, even though he wouldn’t admit it. He was pretty sure Cyrus had like, a sixth sense. They talked, and T.J. immediately felt better. He couldn’t believe he opened up. It was his first time doing that. Cyrus helped him a lot. Then they shared a bag of cheese puffs and started finding weird ways to sit in those dinky little plastic chairs. T.J. was having so much fun with this utter dork. It felt like he finally had a friend.

He had friends, but not the kind he could share laughs with doing completely stupid stuff, like hanging bass-ackwards off of chairs, and playing tag but just hopping along sitting in them without their feet touching the ground. His ‘friends’ were a bunch of guys on the basketball team who were kind of dicks. 

Cyrus invited him to his Bar-Mitzvah, but T.J. didn’t see much of Cyrus here. He guessed he understood that, but he had still stolen his father’s suit and spent what felt like hours making it look like it fit him.

He remembered being at The Spoon, and seeing him there, and telling himself he’d try everything possible to sit down and spend time with him. It took a little prying from Andi, and apologizing to a bin that was supposed to be Buffy. He had kind of liked Buffy. He wouldn’t tell her that, though. It was just sad she had to leave her friends.

Then Cyrus said he was having a physical problem, and T.J. got worried. Was something happening? Maybe he did have more ‘stuff’ than T.J. To his relief, it turned out to be something really small, a joke; he couldn’t do a summersault, but T.J. had been really alarmed there. More than he should have been. He hadn’t ever cared about anyone this much expect for his mom. He hoped his expression hadn’t been too obvious. 

People started to come and go, so T.J. took Cyrus to Tots n’ Lots of Fun! against his will. It seemed like there had been a lot of drama, which Cyrus obviously didn’t care for. He was so nice that he just repelled drama, T.J. had noticed. T.J. felt like Cyrus’ friends didn’t deserve him. Maybe Buffy had, but not some of the others. Of course, T.J. didn’t deserve to have Cyrus as a friend, he thought. 

T.J only picked up a few shifts there now and again; it was kind of a stupid job. He just needed as much money as he could get. When his dad stole cash out of the family fund to buy booze, T.J. always made sure to have backup money until they could get back on their feet. Also, it kept him out of the house for a while, which he always appreciated. 

T.J. noticed he liked to touch Cyrus then. Just a high five, or a pat on the back. Cyrus did a summersault, and they did this weird chest-bump thing, too. He especially liked putting his arm around Cyrus, which he could do in a friendly way. He’d done it before, bold before he had these feelings. The feelings.

They would just see each other in the hallways and such, and T.J. would get excited, and happy, and his heart would go a million miles a minute, and everything would get fluttery. He knew after he near had an aneurysm for the second time that these weren’t ‘friends’ feelings. 

He had never had anything like that before. People talked about butterflies and everything, but T.J. had always thought he was too screwed up to have that happen with a girl; much less have that mutually happen with a girl. He was kind of a loner, anyways. T.J. always suspected he would end up alone. 

Then this happened. He had a crush. On a guy. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. T.J. had always been slightly revolted at that kind of stuff. It wasn’t much him, to be fair, but his dad was definitely revolted. T.J. had agreed, though. Those guys that dressed up in fruity little outfits and did ballet and stuff were really weird. He figured they were the only ones like that. Not people like him, that played basketball, and wore normal clothes, and didn’t talk with a lisp. Yet, he was just like them. He liked guys. He was disgusting.

Snapping out of his thoughts, T.J. headed to his locker, seeing his reflection in the glass panels. He hated himself. He was just some stupid fag that couldn’t stand up against his own father. He didn’t have a future like the rest of the kids there at school. T.J. just wanted control of something for a change. He punched the locker, fist throbbing.

He heard something and turned around. Some kid was staring at him. T.J. was fuming by now. “What’re you lookin’ at?” he scowled. The kid widened his bespectacled eyes and backed up slowly.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I was just going,” the kid said, weakly. By at least the first week of high school, the whole school had learned not to mess with T.J. 

“Not so fast,” T.J. growled, moving forward and shoving the kid against the lockers on the other side of the hall. He held him there. “Y’got a problem with me?” He shoved harder, angry he didn’t have the guts to do so to his own father.

“No! I’m sorry, really sorry!”

“You’d better be,” he sneered, releasing his hand and watching the kid run off. T.J. felt horrible. Every time something like that would happen, he would. But he couldn’t stop bullying people. It just made him feel less numb. It was like he was addicted to having power over someone; of being in charge. That was another reason why he hated himself. He could fill up a whole book with reasons he hated himself. And he would, too.


	3. Only Hope

T.J felt plain awful about the situation with the gun. He thought this could be something fun to invite Cyrus to. He didn't know his friends were going to bring a freaking gun. Of course, he shouldve known; they were going to the middle of nowhere on Lester’s family's bikes. Reed had stole his father's gun. T.J. really didn't see why that was necessary to even have one in a household if you didn't hunt or anything. He knew for a fact he would be scared to death if his father possessed any kind of gun.T.J. felt like jumping off a bridge when he saw what was in the bag. When he had brought Cyrus, of course this had to happen. Not any other time, no. This time. Cyrus left, which was probably the smartest thing to do.

T.J. stayed, but he was so distraught and felt so bad the entire time after that. His friends had told him to go first.

"You're the captain, the boss man," Lester had said. "Go ahead." T.J. couldn't do it after Cyrus just left. 

"Uh, nah. I don't want to shoot any of y'all by accident or something," he had fake laughed.

"C'mon, don't be such a pussy," Reed said.

T.J. knew he had to keep his place with them. He was nothing without them. He did it. His hands had been shaking like a leaf. He picked up the gun, lined up the watermelon with the target, and pulled the trigger. It made a really loud sound, and the force almost knocked T.J. back. He rocked forward on his feet, just barely saving himself from falling into the red clay. His friends had cheered as the watermelon exploded into a bomb of red and green, liquid flying everywhere. He wasn't as pleased Something just sunk inside him. He could never do anything right; morally. Cyrus was his real friend. He gave a shit about T.J. T.J. could've just walked out of there after him, but he didn't. He wasn't smart enough, or brave enough to ever do anything like that. He should've just given up on being a decent friend to Cyrus, or to anybody, right then and there. Not that he had many friends, other than those meatheads. 

 

He decided to turn them in the Monday it happened. Now, T.J. was pacing outside of the principal's office. Was this really a good idea? He didn't have the best track record with Mr. Higgins, one might say, and his friends would probably find out that he turned them in. T.J. turned the metal doorknob, shocking his finger and cursing. He let himself in and peeked around the corner. Mr. Higgins looked over.

"Haven't you heard of knocking, son?" Mr.Higgins was generally a nice guy, but T.J. and his desperate antics tended to bother him. T.J. couldn't blame him.

"Look, I need to talk to you. I-"

"Sitdown," Mr. Higgins said like it was one word combined. 

T.J. sat in the dinky little plastic chair. He remembered when he and Cyrus had hopped around in those. He was doing this for Cyrus. He was doing the right thing for Cyrus. He told Higgins everything.

Mr. Higgins looked so surprised when T.J. had finished telling him all about the gun. He finally did something right for a change. T.J. felt accomplished, in a strange way.

 

 

T.J. heard Reed and Lester get called to the office over the loudspeaker during his fifth period Spanish class. The class “ooh”ed. Normally, T.J. would’ve too. This time he stayed quiet.

He hoped they wouldn’t get into big trouble for this. If they did, and he found out, he would be dead meat. Dead fucking meat. He didn’t speak a word until seventh period, when he heard a knocking sound from where he sat in the back of the class, next to the window. T.J. whipped around and saw them. His friends. Just the two of them. They looked, as T.J.’s mom would say, ‘fightin’ mad’. 

T.J. raised his hand. Mrs. Johnson, the algebra teacher, looked at him distastefully. 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” 

She pursed her color-coated lips. “I don’t know if you could afford to miss class after that last test grade.” 

The whole class snickered and looked his way. He figured it was because he was so mean to some of them. T.J. found it hard to look like he wasn’t bothered by it. “I’ll be fast,” he told her. He sped out the door without grabbing the hall pass in the front of the room. T.J. could hear the laughter through the door.

Reed appeared in front of him, Lester closely following. T.J. tried not to look perturbed. He knew for a fact he could take both of them out individually, but he wasn’t sure how a two-on-one would play out.

“The funniest thing happened today...” Reed started, a disgusted look on his face. “We got called to the office to talk about what happened Saturday. It’s funny that you weren’t even mentioned. By cracky, you shot the first watermelon.”

T.J. looked sideways, as not to face them. He had done that when Cyrus approached him Saturday after seeing the bag. T.J. really didn’t want to face them right now. He knew they would know it was T.J. who turned them in. He was genuinely scared, but tried not to show it.

“So tell me, was it your little friend who you insisted on taking? The one we’ve heard so much about? Was it all too much for him to handle? Did the poor little guy have to turn us in?” Reed taunted. They thought it was Cyrus. Cyrus, not him.

“Yeah, the stupid-ass kid just couldn’t take it, I guess,” T.J. blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say that. He really, really hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh, no more standing up for your little boyfriend there?”

“I- he’s not my boyfriend. Fuck off,” T.J. growled and shoved him. It was a little harder than he had meant. He hoped they thought it was playful. He had just really needed to do that.

Reed laughed. “Don’t pull a ‘please, can we just bring him along this once’, again, hear me?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I fucked up, guys. He was nice to me, and I felt bad for the loser. I won’t do anything like that no more.”

“Hey, Higgins is calling my parents. That’s why we’re here. My dad, and us, might get in big trouble. An apology ain’t gonna cut it.”

T.J. sighed. “Okay, what do you want? Make it quick, I gotta get back to class.”

“Maybe you could help us get ‘im back,” Lester laughed.

“Like... how?”

“I don’t know, we can think about it,” said Reed,”but Lester’s right. He deserves somethin’.”

“Okay, okay. I gotta go.” T.J. turned around and headed back to class, the impending feeling of self-hatred befalling him. Whatever. He had thrown Cyrus under the bus, but he was done caring now.

T.J. tried to not feel bad for the rest of the period, but it didn’t work. He was a mess. He didn’t know why he did that.

Right before the bell could ring, Mrs.Johnson averted her glance to T.J. “So T.J. What would the last question be?”

T.J. looked at her blankly.

“I’m your textbook. The last practice question it gives you.”

Oh. T.J. looked at the last problem on the page. It was long. He knew he couldn’t do anything like that in his head, no matter how hard he tried. He’d forget numbers, or misplace their orders, of God knows what.. “5x?” He guessed. He knew it was a long shot.

“T.J., there aren’t even any variables or formulas in the problem.” He heard a few snorts.

“Just simplify it, and give us the problem, and we can work it out on the board as a class,” she said.

T.J. froze. He couldn’t simplify that. He tried, quickly, but got the first few number mixed up. God, he would look so retarded if he couldn’t even simplify the problem in the first place. He had math dyslexia, or whatever it was called. Buffy had figured it out, and Cyrus had helped him come to terms with it. Cyrus, Cyrus, Cyrus. Why was he all T.J. could think about? T.J. was only trying not to care about him. Cyrus, Cyrus, Cyrus.

He disn’t recall saying,”Cyrus,” but apparently he did. The whole class looked a little confused. This would probably be forgotten soon, with all of the other drama around school, he hoped. He hoped it didn’t get around to Cyrus. That would be a little embarrassing. He didn’t even want to think about him right now. The other kids probably doubted T.J. even knew him. T.J. was certainly the entertainment of algebra today. 

 

The bell rung, and everyone shuffled out. If only T.J. had been saved by the bell, he thought.

Why did he have to say Cyrus? He was so dumb. He couldn’t even control what came out of his mouth. And it was obviously no use forgetting about his crush. He might as well stop trying. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it or how things would end up.

He bumped into Buffy and Andi after school. They probably hated him now. Cyrus had no doubt told them what had happened on Saturday. 

Buffy said hi, and Andi nodded. That was strange. Maybe he hadn’t told them. He was only just getting used to them being semi-friendly. Something told him Cyrus had made them, and they weren’t really that enthusiastic themselves about being friendly to T.J. 

 

“Hey, um, have you guys seen Cyrus?” he asked. He hadn’t seen Cyrus all day and was starting to wonder if he had stayed home. For a specific reason, perhaps. T.J. bit his lip. He felt so bad about this situation. He had never felt bad like this before for someone other than his mother.

“No, he’s sick. He didn’t come to school today,” said Buffy.

T.J.’s mouth fell open. “Oh. I-I...” he trailed off. Finding no words and figuring himself to be an embarrassment, he turned in the other direction and walked out of the school. He glanced back and saw Andi and Buffy exchanging looks that seemed to say ‘that was weird’. He couldn’t blame them. It was.

He doubted Cyrus was really sick. Had Saturday’s events really caused him to stay home he felt so bad? T.J. had just destroyed his friendship with Cyrus, the only person he could be open with. He would probably go back to bullying kids, and hanging out with the rest of the stupid team, and not being close with anyone. He couldn’t help but feel like Cyrus had been his only hope.

 


	4. Meat Loaf

T.J. sat down with the team the next day, placing his discounted school lunch in front of him. It was some kind of meat loaf surprise he had yet to try. The green beans and mashed potatoes on the side looked pretty good.

“We have to do a bunch of community service,” Reed was saying. He and two others were already at the table early. “My dad’s facing charges, prob’ly. Stupid fag,” he finished, referring to Cyrus.

T.J. looked down, somewhat shocked. Why did Nate say that? Cyrus wasn’t even gay. T.J. supposed it was just an insult he was going to have to get used to if people found out about him. He hoped they didn’t anytime soon. He couldn’t help get angry, though, at Reed trash-talking Cyrus.

“He was bound to tell, though,” someone said at the end of the table. “Shouldn’t‘a even brought the twerp.”

T.J. stood up and kicked his chair, causing the few kids already in the lunch room to look over at the spectacle. “You don’t have the right to say any of that! He’s not any of those things. He’s much more than any of you guys’ll ever be! You know, it was me who turned you in! Not him! So just, just shut up now! Okay?”

“ _Now_ he’s standing up for his boyfriend,” Lester said with a smirk, who was just sitting down

“ _You_  turned us in?” Reed whispered, staring at T.J.

“Yesterday morning.”

“You used to be cool, man. Why are you like this? Turning us in? Why would you do that?”

T.J. just stared back at him, wordless. He sat back down.

“You know what, man? You need to stop actin’ like this,” Reed said. He got up, lunch in one hand and backpack in the other, and walked to a different table. The others followed. One looked back, shrugged, and mouthed, “sorry”. T.J. didn’t even know the kid’s name. He had never cared enough to learn the names of everyone on the team.

T.J. sat by himself and picked at his mysterious meat loaf. The table had always seemed so small for all the people that had sat at it. Now it looked big and empty.

More people were coming into the cafeteria. T.J. probably looked lame eating there all by himself, with his ex-friends laughing and talking behind him. Not that he regretted doing what he did.

He saw Cyrus, Andi, and Buffy come along. Cyrus looked his way and the two locked eyes for a moment. Their shared glance was long and intimate. T.J.’s heart started to race. Cyrus finally looked away, but he looked like he was about to come over to where T.J. was sitting. But before he could, Andi and Buffy dragged him off, like his own personal bodyguards.

T.J. stuck a green bean in his soupy meat loaf and tried to look up without the Good Hair Crew, as they called themselves, noticing. They were gone. He twirled his food around in disgust, more at himself than at the meat loaf. He had deserved it.

Lunch dragged by, and T.J. was especially miserable by the time it ended. A kid he didn’t know came up to him in the hallway. “Hey, why weren’t you sitting with-“ he started to ask. Before he could finish, T.J. had whirled around and punched him. Just like that. Breathing heavily, T.J. turned to the kid’s friend, who was staring in shock.

“You liked the show?” he asked, shoving the boy into the wall and storming off. He didn’t know what was going on with himself. He had always been a little mean, but not too physically, like this. He had just snapped.

T.J. headed to the bathroom, holding back a sob. He had lost Cyrus and his friends by just being himself. Sounded about right. Why did he have to screw everything up? Everything that he cared about, which he imagined as a big list repeating Cyrus and his mom’s names over and over again until the end of the list.

T.J. entered the grimy restroom, locking himself in a stall and letting a tear fall. He felt it roll down his cheek and caught it with his tongue. He didn’t want to hate himself. Maybe if he didn’t, things would be different. He dug his nails into his palms, like he did when he was mad sometimes. Feeling a strong stinging, he grimaced and opened his palms. Blood surfaced in crescent shapes on both his hands. He stared at them. His hands had certainly never bled before. It felt satisfying, in an odd way. It shouldn’t have felt satisfying.

Blinking away his brimming tears through thick eyelashes, T.J. exited the stall and stared at himself in the smeared mirror. His hair was almost crusty with gel. His eyes were rimmed with red, but as blue and empty as a cloudless sky. T.J.’s features weren’t unattractive, but he had always thought they never quite went together well.

He held up his hands, and the damage was noticeable. He dabbed them with a paper towel and washed them, ignoring the stinging. Then he headed to Spanish class, already ten minutes late. He didn’t care.

 

 

When T.J. unlocked the front door of his apartment, it was eerily silent. T.J. had learned that this was not always a good thing. He peered over the couch, and sure enough, his father’s large body was sprawled across it, clearly passed out. He hugged a whiskey glass in his state of drunkenness. A shotglass sat on the coffee table. How ironic, T.J. thought bitterly.

T.J. didn’t see his mother around the corner until she whispered,”Honey, you need to get out of here before he wakes up. I’m going to head out into town, too. He had a bad day today.”

T.J. pursed his chapped lips. He couldn’t even find shelter in his own home. It didn’t exactly feel like home. “Okay. When should I come back?”

“I’ll text you.”

“How will you know?” T.J. asked, worriedly.

“I’ll wait until it’s probably safe, and come back and check on him. Now come on, let’s go.”

 

 

The word ‘probably’ haunted T.J. as he walked to the park. He had decided he needed a good swing to figure out his ‘stuff’, and was headed to the swing set. A part of him hoped Cyrus wasn’t there, but another part of him hoped he was. Of course, he had stopped by the swings a few times since Saturday to see if Cyrus was there. He didn’t know if he would do anything if he did see him, but he just liked checking.

Sure enough, when he got closer, he saw a familiar figure of short, dark hair swinging high. T.J. smiled at the fact that he had caused Cyrus to discover a love for swinging higher than he used to. T.J. decided he would still go.

“This seat taken?”he asked, startling the other boy.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” He asked, after taking in T.J.’s sudden appearance.

“I’ve been stopping by. Seeing if I could catch you without your bodyguards,” T.J. said a little sarcastically.

“I’m.. not supposed to hand out with you,” Cyrus said, referencing his ‘bodyguards’ comment. “I should go.”

That was the last thing T.J. wanted. “Stay!” He blurted out. “I’ll-I’ll go.” He was quiet for a little while longer. “Can I at least say I’m sorry first?”

Cyrus shrugged.

“I didn’t know he-Reed, was gonna bring a gun.” He looked down at the boy, but his expression was blank. “I-I wouldn’t have gone, and I definitely wouldn’t have brought you.”

T.J. went on. He said what he was really thinking. “Now you hate me.” He sighed. “Classic T.J. Anything good, I gotta ruin it,” he said, scorning himself for the first time in front of Cyrus.

Blank expression.

T.J. started to walk away. He had had good intentions, at least.

“T.J.,” he heard, and whipped around. “You- said you were gonna apologize.”

“I just did.” T.J. said, a little annoyed.

“Actually,” Cyrus said, leaning against the swing,”you didn’t.” He looked adorable, T.J. couldn’t help but notice. He couldn’t stay annoyed long.

“Yes, I did! I said I w-,” T.J. trailed off, his previously growing smile fading as he thought. “You’re right. Sorry for, not saying sorry.” T.J. headed off. There was nothing left to say.

“So...you apologized for not apologizing but you still haven’t apologized,” Cyrus figured behind him, just when T.J. thought any chance of more conversation or friendship was over. “But you still haven’t apologized.”

T.J. walked closer to Cyrus. “You can be a little annoying, you know that?”

Cyrus got off his swing and walked towards T.J. “Well, you can be oblivious.”

T.J. inched forwards. “Well, you can be very judgy.”

“You can be intimidating.”

“You know what else you are?” Said T.J., not really thinking once again.

“What?”

“The only person I can talk to like this.”

T.J. squeezed his eyes shut. Had he really just said that?

He opened them and saw Cyrus sporting this cute little smile. Something in him just exploded. Not in a bad way, but in a totally good way. Like an ‘I just said something sappy that he might later question but oh my fucking God I made him smile and I can’t believe it and he’s just so adorable’ way. That was it.

“May I?” He asked. Cyrus just shrugged.

They swung in seemingly un-awkward silence for a while before Cyrus spotted some actual kids that wanted to go on the swing set and made them get off. He was so nice.

They sat by the lake and T.J. told Cyrus about the community service, and Reed’s father’s hearing. Cyrus told T.J. that he didn’t turn his friends in. All T.J. could do was just smile, knowingly. “I did,” he said. Cyrus looked at him surprised. “Surprise! I did something right for a change!” T.J. said.

“T.J.?” Cyrus asked. “Are you okay?”

T.J. looked at him, confused. Cyrus elaborated. “I- I wanted to talk to you on Monday, but then I got a cold. My mom brought one home from work.” So he really had been sick Monday. T.J. felt a tad better.

“Then Andi and Buffy made me not talk to you-“

“Bodyguards.”

Cyrus nodded. “And I just noticed something about you was off, somehow. And word has it you beat a bunch of people up. I mean, I don’t know if that’s true, but Andi and Buffy sure believe it, ‘cause they’re extra mad.” Oh great, thought T.J. “But if it is, there has to be a reason you were acting like that. And come on, all these self deprecating jokes?” He pauses for a little while, before adding a fast ,”and I saw your hands.”

T.J.’s pulse grew quicker. Cyrus saw his hands. He took a deep breath, and began to auietly speak. “To answer your question, I did punch someone who didn’t really do anything, and shoved a few people into walls.” T.J. could tell Cyrus was trying not to be disappointed in him. “About-the other stuff... are you ready for story time?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Cyrus said softly.

“No, I want to.”

“My dad, he’s a great guy. Just not when he drinks.” T.J. hung his head, not daring to look at the boy he was about to tell everything to. “It used to only happen once in a while, but lately it’s gotten worse. Today,” he said,”today, I found him sleeping with a bottle of whiskey clutched to his chest.” T.J. let out the saddest excuse for a laugh he’d ever heard. He took a deep breath, and continued. “He’s beat my mother a few times. I know. And I can’t go out there and defend her. I’m just scared. I freeze every time I try to, when they’re fighting, you know? And my mom and me aren’t really close, but she cares for me, and we love each other, of course. It kills me that I can’t do anything. I’ll feel bad, and out of control, and go beat someone up at school. Which I know I shouldn’t do. I feel terrible when I do it. I can’t stop myself.” T.J. was speaking so fast now he had to gulp for air. He hiccuped, and waited for another one, but it didn’t come.

“Slow down, slow down.” Cyrus placed a hand on T.J.’s, which was resting on the stone they were sitting on, the gravel stinging against his cuts. “You know you don’t have to tell me the rest.”

“You don’t want me to.”

“No I do, and I think it’d be good for you, too, but you really don’t have to. I don’t think you’re quite ready.”

“I-maybe another time. Yeah, you’re right. But it felt good telling someone. I’ve never told this to anyone before, you know that? You’re the first. Um,” he paused, taking in a breath of crisp December air. “I want to tell you one more thing, though. I feel awful about it. My friends, yesterday, got in trouble, of course. I had just turned them in. They thought it was you. I let you take the blame. They started, I don’t know, trash talking you, and I kind of had to join in. I mean, no, I definitely didn’t have to, but I felt like I had to, ‘cause I’m just stupid that way.” Cyrus opened his mouth to object, but T.J. kept going. “I called _you_ stupid, and I called you a loser. And I feel really bad, you know I didn’t mean any of that right? You’re way better than those freaks- I’m not friends with them anymore, after today, I mean. I hope you understand. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, cause,”T.J. bit his lip,”’cause you mean a lot to me. I don’t have many people in this world that mean a lot to me.”

Cyrus looked slightly pained, but slightly warmed. “That hurts a little, yeah, but, I understand. And you mean a lot to me, too. I missed you.” He smiled. “I’m not mad at you or anything. You’d have to screw up big-time for me to really be _mad_ at you. You know, I wasn’t angry about the gun thing. I knew you wouldn’t have been in on that. And about your situation, that really sucks. I’m sorry. You know, Buffy and Andi heard about you punching someone, and they were mad at you. But I wasn’t, because I know you, and you’re too good of a person to just do something like that without something big bothering you. I knew something had to be going on.”

T.J. felt a moment as close to perfect as he’d ever experienced, right there, on the lake, practically holding hands with Cyrus, who had just called him a good person. Telling Cyrus about his dad lifted a huge weight off his chest. Now he had someone that’s understood. He felt like he wasn’t fighting this fight alone. He hoped he could tell him more soon.


	5. Straw Wars

Whenever T.J. heard his phone buzz, he hoped it was Cyrus. He thought it was kind of silly, because there was a pretty good chance of it being Cyrus. Still, it gave him a rush of excitement when he saw the name _Underdog_ pop up on the little white screen.

He liked the way Cyrus texted. He used lots of abbreviations, but not the ones that usually made T.J. cringe. Cyrus also texted things like **:)**  instead of using emojis. T.J. thought emojis were quite obnoxious. What he liked the most, though, was how Cyrus always ended his texts with a period. He never failed to, and it was adorable.

Adorable. Cyrus was adorable. T.J. had always thought that, and now he wasn’t beating himself up over it as much. It was just what T.J. thought he was. He was coming to terms with it. Yes, occasionally, he would wonder why he had to be like that, or that he was kind of gross for thinking things along the lines of ‘another boy is cute’. But those thoughts were becoming less and less frequent. He was fine unless his father found out.

When Cyrus texted the next Saturday, T.J. did a double take. One week ago, he realized, he had taken Cyrus out with his friends, when it happened. He still felt rather bad about that, but he was glad he had gotten a chance to apologize and explain himself so soon. He never would’ve thought he would have the chance. He picked up his phone and read what Cyrus had to say.

 

 **Underdog** : _Reptile fun fact of the day #1: There are allegedly ten thousand species of reptiles in the world, found everywhere but Antarctica._

T.J. groaned, but in his heart he knew he thought Cyrus’s dorky facts were really cute.

 **You** : _Every day?_

 **Underdog** : _Yessiree. What, would you like a bonus one?_

 **You** : _No thank you. Ur gonna explode my flip phone_

 **Underdog** : _I like ur flip phone! It’s classy._

Classy. T.J. smiled. His friends had always said his flip phone was stupid, and asked him when he was going to get a ‘real phone’. He didn’t tell them that he couldn’t afford a fancy cell phone, and that he actually liked his. It kept him from being too addicted, like he would see other kids be.

 **You** : _That’s the point. It’s classy, but it’ll explode_

 **Underdog** : _Point taken, lol.  
_

 **You** : _What are ur big plans for today?_

 **Underdog** : _Heading out in a few minutes for lunch w Buffy and Andi at the spoon._

 **Underdog** : _Hey, u should come! I told my friends, they’re cool with you now.  
_

T.J. stared at his phone, worried. Had Cyrus told his friends what T.J. had told him? Surely, he hadn’t. He couldn’t have. T.J. had said to keep that in between them, right? Had he?

 **You** : _You told them?_

 **Underdog** : _Oh, no! No! I shouldn’t have worded it like that. I just told them that you were a really good guy, and that they should give you a chance, and they should just trust me. T.J., I would never tell that to anyone_.

A wave of relief washed over T.J. He should’ve known T.J. wouldn’t do that. He read the text over again and couldn’t help but smile at the way Cyrus had used his name, and how only Cyrus could make a text so genuine, and the period at the end. He got that all-too-familiar feeling he always got when Cyrus did something cute like that.

 **You** : _Ig I should’ve known that :)_

 **You** : _Anyway, I’m not too convinced A and B are ok w me..._

 **Underdog** : _I’m sure they’ll be fine. Just, c’mon, it would make me really happy to see all of you guys communicating and -maybe- even being somewhat amiable with each other._

Was T.J. so important to Cyrus that he wanted him and his other friends to get along? T.J. couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes rolled back to look at the ceiling, and he started laughing like some lunatic. He swore, he belonged in a mental hospital.

It would make Cyrus happy. T.J. knew he couldn’t resist that line. He would do anything to see Cyrus smile.

 **You** : _Omw_

 

 

T.J. slid into the booth next to Andi. He had hoped to sit next to Cyrus, solely because he liked being close to him. It made T.J. forget all his problems. When he had gotten to the Spoon, though, Buffy and Cyrus were already sitting together, opposite of Andi. Cyrus was narrating a story about a baby tater, and the whole table seemed pretty enthralled with the show. 

They all glanced up at T.J.

“Oh, hi, T.J.! I didn’t even see you there!” said Cyrus.

“Oh, yeah, well, that skit looked pretty interesting.” 

Cyrus looked a little embarrassed. T.J. wanted to tell him that he loved his baby tater Broadway productions, and enthusiasm about reptiles, and pretty much everything about him. But, surprise, he couldn’t.

Amber came up to the table upon seeing T.J. enter. Once Cyrus had said that she and T.J. looked alike, almost like siblings. T.J. still couldn’t quite see that. 

“Hey, what would you like to drink?” 

“Water, please.” T.J. always made sure to use manners around Cyrus. 

“To eat?” she asked. T.J. realized he didn’t have money on him, and turned red. 

“Erm, I don’t think I’ll have anything. I forgot my wallet at home,” he added. T.J. wished he had a wallet.

Amber scowled and came back a second later with a glass of water. 

“My treat?” offered Cyrus. T.J. shook his head and thanked him anyways. He couldn’t accept in front of Cyrus’ angry friends. 

T.J. tore off the top of his straw wrapper, put it to his lips, and blew the wrapper across the table to Cyrus. “Ahh!” Cyrus exclaimed, trying to throw it back at T.J. It didn’t go very far and fell in the middle of the table. He tried to find another unopened straw for offensive purposes, but failed to.

“Rude,” Andi murmured, looking down at her drink.

Had that been rude? He hadn’t meant it to be. T.J. had always wanted to do that to somebody, as he had no siblings or understanding friends he could heckle. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. T.J. bit his lip. He was such a mess when it came to social situations.

“So, you have a basketball game Monday, right?” Cyrus asked T.J., desperately trying to start up a conversation.

“Yeah, I’m excited.” The way T.J. said that made it seem like he was aching with enthusiasm about the game; like it was just like a man was landing on the moon. T.J. had only wanted to add something after he said “yeah”, because that sounded plain.

There was a long, awkward silence that followed.

“Oh, Andi!” Cyrus finally said. “Tell us about that project you were working on.”

Andi didn’t answer.

“She must have more important things to worry about, like her friend being brought out into the boonies to illegally shoot guns by someone who I’d just forgiven for being such a complete jerk. Guess that hasn’t changed. I bet he’ll always be mean to people, and end up some loser nobody wants to talk to,” said Buffy.

T.J. stared at his lap sheepishly. He wanted to crawl under the table.

Cyrus tried to stand up, but he couldn’t in the booth, so he just stood on his knees, balancing himself by placing his hands on the table. “Guys, could you just leave him alone? Buffy, Andi, you’ve done things I didn’t, and still haven’t approved of. We all make mistakes, okay? You don’t even know the full story, and you know that. Could you please just be nice?”

T.J. felt a little less like crawling under the table. Cyrus had stood up for him. Had invited him to lunch. In fact, he felt like he would burst with happiness if it wasn’t for Andi and Buffy’s snarky remarks and unwillingness to speak.

T.J. stood up. “Maybe I should go,” he said quietly. Cyrus looked like he was about to speak, but didn’t say anything. “No, I don’t...” T.J. trailed off, letting out a forced laugh, “I don’t think I’m wanted here.”

He exited the diner, taking one last look back at Cyrus, who sported an apologetic expression. T.J. shrugged as if to say,   _it’s_ _fine_.

T.J. knew he deserved that; what Buffy had said to him. He deserved about twenty of those for all the horrible things he had done. Maybe more.

T.J. didn’t have to work at the gym today, and found himself at the park. Hopping from stone to stone on the pathway, he came amidst the swing set. He sat down, swinging higher and higher each passing second. His hands didn’t hurt anymore, he noticed, as he was clutching the swing hard. He closed his eyes, pretending he was with Cyrus, arguing about something completely absurd, and laughing so hard they couldn’t argue anymore, or swing, or breathe. When T.J. opened his eyes, he was smiling involuntarily. He loved it when that happened. It wasn’t often, but it was one of his favorite feelings.

 

 

On Monday afternoon, T.J. shuffled out of the locker room with the rest of the basketball team. Nobody had said anything to him. He supposed silence was a good thing, though.

Most of his teammates were busy finding their family and friends who had come to the game in the crowd; it was an important one. T.J. scanned the bleachers too, seriously not expecting his mother or father to have come. He always looked, though, just in case they did. 

“T.J.!” He heard from the other side of the bleachers. It felt strange to have his name called out.

Cyrus is smiling and jumping up and down, all cute. Man, how did T.J. not see him when he was looking at the crowd?

Cyrus turned around and pointed to his back. “GO TJ!” was scrawled across the back of his T-shirt in permanent marker.

T.J. couldn’t stop smiling the whole game.

 

After he had barely won the basketball game by 38-34 and T.J. exited the locker room, Buffy found him. It was surprising to see her, even if he knew she would come to games sometimes to observe for her girls’ team.

T.J. had thought about her when he noticed his teammates were still passing the ball to him despite the drama going on. He felt bad for not passing the ball to Buffy a while ago. He didn’t know why he did that.

“Hey, T.J., so, um congratulations,” Buffy said. T.J. couldn’t believe his ears. She had just completely dissed him at the Spoon. He thought she completely hated him.

“Erm, thanks?”

“So, I’m sorry for the way I treated you at the Spoon. I’m sure the same goes for Andi, too. I guess we just, heard what happened, and we jumped to conclusions. You know, Cyrus is like, our life.” She laughed. “But we shouldn’t have been so narrow-minded about everything. And, hey, you used to be a jerk, but I’ll give you a second chance.”

T.J. flushed. “Erm, thanks, yeah. That’s-really nice of you. I...” he trailed off. “Wait, did Buffy Driscoll just apologize to me?” He asked, teasingly. What he had wanted to do was apologize for not passing the ball to her earlier, but for some reason, he couldn’t say it. He had trouble saying things like that, as sad as it was. T.J. had majorly surprised himself when he had told Cyrus he was the only person he could talk to ‘like this’.

“Oh, shut up.” And with that, Buffy Driscoll was off.

T.J. hadn’t noticed Cyrus, who had come up behind him. “Did she just-?”He asked in shock

“I think she did just.”

“Oh, that makes me so happy. Let’s go to The Spoon to celebrate!”

T.J. blinked. Just him and Cyrus? At The Spoon? Did Cyrus just ask him to eat out?

He watched as Cyrus pulled out his phone. “I’ll text Buffy. Is Andi cool with you, too?”

Oh. Maybe not. It was a few seconds of excitement, that wasn’t too exciting anyway.

“T.J?”

“Oh! I mean, I think so, but I don’t know. Say, what do you think made Buffy change her mind?”

“No! I didn’t say anything!” Cyrus practically shouted. “If that’s what you thought, I mean,” he said, slightly embarrassed.

“No, no, I didn’t think you would say anything!” T.J. said.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“And you still haven’t,” Cyrus teased T.J., referencing their conversation they had had on the swings a week and a half ago.

T.J. scoffed, but did so playfully. “I did, too.”

“Mm... not quite.”

They walked off, bantering, and T.J. smiled, because he thought they must’ve looked like a couple on TV, when the characters walk off the set and tease each other or playfully argue like this. He’d been smiling more lately. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t thought many self-deprecating thoughts in a while. Maybe he was getting better; maybe he was getting happier.


End file.
